Lucy blushed from toes to forehead, feeling her pace accelerate. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. Angelina's distress over these mischances was pathetic. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. She did not know herself. The moment my escape is known, a large reward will be placed on my head.
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